Lessons in Colors
by Sigcius
Summary: Knowing the Equalists are formidable enemies, Korra seeks training to counter their chi-blocking and receives lessons in non-bending martial arts. Short story, multi-chapter. T for minor language and violence. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

__**Author's Note:** I don't have a timetable pinned down for this story, but it probably takes place over several Season 1 episodes, and ends before Episode 10. Enjoy!

* * *

_He's the best in the city. Trust me._

Korra enters the basement with few expectations, and she isn't disappointed. Not completely, anyway.

It's sparse. Almost like the arena's gym, but smaller, much smaller, maybe big enough to house a few Satomobiles. The equipment is different, too. One side is lined with mirrors and a handlebar that runs the length of the wall. Along the other, a few tattered punching bags hang from chains on an I-beam in the rafters, and a combat mannequin sits in the corner. The floor is hard wood and stained in uneven streaks, and she thinks it's probably not paint but sweat. The ceiling is covered in some places and open in others. She can tell the brick walls were once red, but their color is pretty much gone, so the whole room has an earthy feel, gray and brown. Even the air is moist.

There are no nets, no targets, no water buckets and no coin crates. It's close and cramped, not spacious and fresh. It's definitely not a bending gym. To Korra, it's both familiar and foreign.

As is her request.

There is a noise from the back and a door opens. A man steps into the room wearing a plain black shirt and drawstring pants, wiping his hands on a rag. He notices Korra – she knows from his glance – but he turns away, mopping his forehead and his neck. She waits but he says nothing. Doesn't even acknowledge her presence beyond that one look.

Asami's words echo in her head. _The best in the city._ So she's willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, and says, "Excuse me!"

Now the man speaks. "Mhm, I saw you. School's closed for the evening."

Korra furrows her brow. _So much for being polite._ She takes a breath. "Are you Master Chuang?"

Again he ignores her. Instead he tosses the rag in a bin and leans over to grab his bare feet. He stretches. But he says nothing.

Korra clears her throat and begins, "Hey, I'm just…" but she stops. She swallows, and with it goes some of her pride. It hurts, but she knows she needs this. "I'm looking for training, is all."

Across the room the man looks at her again, his head angled down as he bends at the waist. "Do I know you?"

_Blunt bastard, he is._ She can't help but throw one back. "I don't know, do you?"

Now he straightens up and pads across the floor. As he approaches, Korra examines him, and he her. The man is older and about her height, medium build, thinning black hair. His thin face is pocked and pitted, and his eyes are a dark brown, almost black. She watches his eyes zip from her boots to her crown. He scratches his arm. "You're not one of my students."

"No." Then she adds, "Sir."

That gets a half smirk – just for a second – before his features harden again. "But I've heard you on the radio. You're the Avatar."

It's a small victory, and Korra can't help but revel in it. She folds her arms. "That's me."

His eyes narrow and sweep over her face. "What was your name? Kera? Kona?"

Korra frowns. She can't tell if he's playing a game or not, and she doesn't like it. She's already been through this with Lin. "Korra."

"Ah. So it is." The man walks past her now, moving to a rack of equipment on the wall next to the entrance. He selects a pair of gloves and slips them on. "And you said you wanted training."

She grits her teeth. For a moment she forgets why she came here, of all places. _Is he making a fool of me?_ "Yes."

He moves to a punching bag and begins tapping it lightly with his knuckles. "I'm not a bending master."

Korra clenches her fists. It's all she can do to stop from turning on her heels and walking out the door. _Hardly been here two minutes and I can't stand this arse._ "I know, but-"

He starts punching. "I train non-benders how to fight."

"Yea, I saw the sign outside. '_Master Chuang's Martial Arts_.' I wouldn't need bending to see it."

He pauses and looks over his shoulder. "Then I'm listening."

She takes a deep breath. _Inhale. Exhale._ _Best in the city._ "You say you listen to the radio. So you know what I've been doing, and you know about the Equalists, about Amon. His men aren't your run-of-the-mill thugs – they're competent. They know how to chi-block and they're good."

He resumes punching. "Go on."

"I need someone-" Korra stops. This feels strange, and she can't place a finger on _why._ She's had masters before. Learning under another shouldn't be any different. But this time something inside finds the notion alien. She closes her eyes and shakes her head. "I need someone to teach me how to fight, like them, in case I can't use my bending."

Once again the punching stops. When Korra looks up she sees the man still facing away, gloved hands on top of the bag. For a while he says nothing. Korra just waits.

Finally: "Who did you say told you about this place?"

"I didn't. Asami Sato told me. She was a student of yours."

He nods and grips the bag's chains with one hand, looking at her again over his shoulder. "Alright. I'll do it."

She blinks. "I- oh." _That was easy._ "Well, uh, I appreciate it. Thank you."

"Thank you, _sir._"

Korra frowns. "Sir."

She swears she sees him smirk as he turns his attention to his punching bag again. His fists pound leather. "This Thursday at seven hours past noon. Or Friday. Whichever is convenient. You'll be training alone." The bag sways. "I'm Master Chuang."


	2. Chapter 2

Korra arrives later that week to begin.

The last class lets out as she enters – a young group, three men and three women, all probably within a few years of Korra herself. She leans against the wall in the corner as they gather their things. A few give her glances but there's no recognition in their eyes. Korra hates to think herself vain, but she silently admits it's somewhat disappointing.

As they file out, bags over shoulders, the last one – a brown-haired girl, maybe fourteen or so – looks at Korra. She stares as she leaves, head on a swivel. Her eyes go wide. Then she rushes to another student and whispers something to him. He looks at Korra, green eyes peering, and shrugs. Korra can't help but smile.

When they are gone she says to Chuang, "Is this outfit alright?" She's in her Water Tribe clothing.

He nods. "If it's what you wear on the street." Korra starts to remove her boots but Chuang holds out a hand. "No, keep them."

She lifts her chin. "Huh. I thought most martial arts schools don't allow footwear on the floor."

He picks up a foot. He's wearing shoes. "Do you go barefoot in the street?"

Korra grins. "Of course not. Sir." So she steps onto the floor and Chuang hits a stance not unlike Korra's own. Not unlike a probender's, really.

"Two bouts. I want to see what you can do."

Korra slides into her own fighting stance and her grin grows wider. This she is familiar with. She inspects Chuang's face. His features are slack except his jaw, rigid underneath his lined cheeks.

"No bending," he says. "But otherwise, no rules."

Korra nods. She hopes Asami was right about this guy.

There is no bell and no warning with the first jab. It's in her face, and Korra nearly stumbles to avoid it, and the second. Then he's close, very close, and there's a fist in her gut, but Korra catches it with a braced stomach. She swings with a right hook. Chuang ducks and his open palm slams her ribcage.

But it's nothing she's never felt before. She spins away and twists into low roundhouse that he backpedals. Then a chasing high roundhouse. Again he ducks and suddenly closes with two quick punches to the torso before her foot is on the ground. Korra can only take them, torquing so they catch her ribs and not her sternum, her mouth dropping open as her breath is forced from her chest. She steps back, slapping away the trio of punches that follow her retreat. Then she throws one of her own at his face, but for some reason he isn't there and her fist only catches his upper arm.

_He's fast._

He's to her left. She grunts and lifts her leg and her heel comes crashing down onto his head. But it doesn't hit his head, because Chuang lets it slide off an upraised arm. Then he's on her again and his knuckles spike her neck, her armpit, her kidney, her solar plexus. Korra sees lights and she doubles over.

The world spins. She's in the air. She's on the floor. He has her pinned.

Like that it's over.

Chuang has her arm twisted behind her back, but he lets go. Korra scrambles to her feet and shakes her head clear. Her heart pounds in her ears as she brushes herself off, facing away from Chuang. That was quick. Too quick. She isn't winded at all but she's never been beaten in such a short time.

_It's not supposed to be that quick._

"Again," he says behind her.

Korra turns and sucks her gums. She reassures herself: _you weren't careful, you were caught off guard_. _This time will be different._

There is no buzzer to start the second bout, so she begins on the offensive, snapping her foot into his mouth as soon as their stances are set. It clips Chuang's jaw and his head snaps back. He throws up his arms to protect his face. Korra leaps, jutting a side kick for his gut. Chuang twists and Korra's foot grazes his side, but it's enough to force him off balance. When she lands she spins, arms up, ready to attack again-

But he's on her now, with his lightning triple punches that flash from nowhere. Korra retreats, tries to make distance, spins and throws a back kick. She knows she can't let him get close. The kick forces Chuang to the side, and Korra moves the other way, keeping a yard or so between them. For a few moments they circle one another, guards up. Korra swaps her gaze between Chuang's eyes and his waist, watching for whatever he might throw. Chuang's eyes are locked on her stomach.

Then he leaps – far higher than Korra thought a man of his age could – right over her head. She twirls to face him but Chuang lands in a crouch and throws a sweeping leg, catching her shin. Korra yelps and falls, but adrenaline pumps through her veins and she rolls away before Chuang can get her. Then she springs to her feet, throwing a roundhouse kick, then another, then a third, forcing Chuang into the corner-

And he snatches her foot out of the air and yanks. Korra's balance fails her. She plummets, and her head cracks against hard wood. She's dazed.

It takes a few moments to recover. When she does, he's got her again.

_No._ Korra squeezes her eyes shut. Beaten twice. Something flushes through her stomach, a feeling she doesn't often have. It takes her a moment to realize what it is. _Humilation._

Chuang lets her free and steps away. Korra sits up, knees bent, palms on the ground behind her. She looks up at him and his impassive face. "Again. Sir."

He scratches his chin, eyes narrowing. He is thinking, of course, but his features remain impossible to read. Not that it would've helped. Korra's never been good at reading people (Hiroshi, she reminds herself, was gut instinct). Eventually he says, "No."

She presses her lips together. She wants another chance. She knows she can beat this man, if only she gets the opportunity to test him again, to find his weaknesses. And when she finds them, she knows she can _hammer_ them.

But Chuang turns away. He walks to the back of the room and takes a rag from the bin. "That's all for today. Come back next class."

Korra's mouth falls open. Then she closes it. Then she opens it again. "What? But we just-"

"We're not done, Avatar. I need time to think."

Korra gets to her feet and points at Chuang's turned back. "That's not right. You said you'd-" but she stops. This is all familiar to her. It feels like she's gone through this before…

…_don't force your way through…_

She lowers her finger. Her face flushes. _Inhale. Exhale._

It takes her a few moments, but eventually she says, "Okay." Korra brushes a strand of hair from her forehead and then bows, fist to palm. "Next class. Sir."

As she leaves she gives Chuang one more glance. He still stands by the bin, head bowed, rag in hand.


	3. Chapter 3

_Should I do this?_

It is past midnight. Chuang leans over his sink, staring at his mirror. His pitted face stares back.

_I needn't have had this face._

Memories dredged from decades past return. Small rooms packed with people, air thick. Coughing. Sneezing. Another one taken out the back door, arms limp over the side of a bamboo stretcher.

The question answers itself. _Of course I should do this._ _Otherwise my decisions would be irrelevant today._

_But how do I do this?_

One of those taken away is a good friend of Chuang's. His name was Gau. They used to hunt ants with Gau's firebending. Gau's face became poxed and pitted too, but with his face went his life.

The question answers itself. _She is balance incarnate. That alone should be enough guidance._

_But why do I do this?_

Chuang's mother and father survive. His grandmother does not. Eventually they are put on the street when the rooms become too full.

The question answers itself. _You already chose your path. To halt the journey is failure, and the other way is unacceptable._

_But why?_

"Why?" he remembers asking.

A man in blue robes only looks at Chuang's family. His face might be sad, but it is blurry, as if viewed through falling water. He shakes his head and moves on. The next day he leaves town.

Chuang never got an answer.


	4. Chapter 4

When Korra arrives for her second class, the previous group is already gone, except for the brown-haired girl.

She is talking with Chuang in heated words, and is visibly angry. When Korra steps through the door the girl throws her a glance and lowers her voice, but she and Chuang are speaking a language Korra doesn't understand. Chuang's expression is largely blank. The corners of his lips are turned down.

Their exchange is almost one-sided. The girl might be asking questions. Chuang answers in one or two words. He never looks Korra's way. After a few rounds of this, the girl barks something and hurries to gather her things. As she walks out she looks at neither Korra nor Chuang.

When Korra steps onto the floor she raises an eyebrow. "Is everything… okay, sir?"

Chuang throws up a hand. It is the most emotional gesture Korra has yet seen him make. "It doesn't concern you. Do not worry."

"I wasn't planning on it," she says under her breath. Then she bows, and he does the same.

"I did some thinking," he begins, "about how to best move forward with your lessons. I imagine you practice extensively on Air Temple Island, yes?"

Korra nods.

"Then conditioning is not a concern. I learned that much last time." Chuang folds his arms behind his back. "You are also proficient with your kicking techniques, and we don't need to work on your athleticism."

Korra nods again, and catches herself smirking.

"But." He raises a finger. "Your inside game is weak. You've trained bending your entire life – how to control it, how to exploit your environment, how to match it to your physical attributes – and the biggest advantage bending has over non-bending martial arts is _range._ If we were to bout now, no rules, you would shear my hair from my skull before I could take a single step." Now Chuang holds out a palm. "As a result, when an opponent gets close, you don't know how to handle it."

Korra's instinct is to deny his accusation, to assert her ability, but she _knows_ it's true. She learned as much fighting Equalists in the streets. So she bites her tongue.

Chuang continues, "I have seen chi-blockers fight. They have a way of avoiding the attacks of undisciplined benders and closing fast, so that they take away your biggest advantage and employ their own. Accordingly, we will work on close quarters combat."

So they do. They begin practicing many of the techniques Chuang threw in their bouts. He teaches her the quick triple punches, how to strike without windup or warning, how to strike with two knuckles and not four to minimize the area of contact and maximize force. They strike the bags for an hour, two hours, until Korra's knuckles are raw. She isn't used to it. It's a rookie feeling that makes her realize just how much she relies on her bending. The urge to bend is strong, and she has to suppress it.

He teaches her the open palm strike meant to crack ribs and break jawbones, and they begin to intersperse them with the punches. Two punches to the face, palm to the ribs. Palm to the face, two punches to the gut. Punch to the face, two to the solar plexus.

At one point Korra asks him about the _chakras_, but Chuang shakes his head. "I don't know what those are."

"They're like… physical points of energy in the body. I don't really know either. I was never good at the spiritual stuff."

He shrugs. "Maybe they're important for bending. In physical martial arts, there are similar points that you can strike to impair your opponent."

"Like what you did during our first round?"

"Yes." He nods. "Like that."

They continue. She punches leather until her knuckles bleed, but she ignores the pain. Pain has never been an obstacle. It's what the pain represents – that's what bothers her. But she picks up the techniques fast because her muscles are used to hard work like this. Knowing this lightens her spirits and rekindles her confidence. Soon Chuang has her working face-to-face, punching at him and trying to get through his lightning blocks. Sometimes she does, but most of the time her fists are slapped away.

After some time they reverse roles and now he throws the strikes. She tries to stay rooted, but more than once her instincts take over and she steps back. For her, movement has always been the best defense.

"I agree," Chuang says, "but these chi-blockers are quick. You say you've fought them, so you know. They jump and they're on you in an instant." He snaps his fingers in her face. "You need to be ready for that, and you need to be able to fight _close._"

They work late into the evening, and it's midnight by the time they are through.

Afterwards Korra sits on the floor against the wall. She's sweating lightly but it wasn't a workout for her. The _real_ workout was mental: training her mind and body to function in ways she isn't used to. She takes a few deep breaths, trying to clear her head. _It's all mental. Tenzin would be proud – hah!_

When Chuang brings her a water skin, Korra says, "Thank you, sir." She bends liquid out and shapes it into a ball before applying it to her bloodied knuckles. She hums a tune as she heals.

It takes her some time to realize Chuang is staring at her as she does so.

"You're a healer," he says.

"Yea. I learned from Katara." She tilts her head. "You've heard of her, right?"

Chuang nods. Korra resumes her healing. When she is done she takes a drink from the skin and stands. "Thank you, sir. Next class?"

But Chuang is already gone, slipping through the back door. He only says, "Yes," as he leaves.


	5. Chapter 5

The question returns in Chuang's dreams.

_Why?_

He is in the room again. It is dark, and he is young and scared. People line the four walls, sitting on the floor and leaning against one another. The room stinks of herbs and mucus and death. Sometimes a man in a white apron will enter through a curtain and summon someone, and later the person might come back clutching a paper bag, or they might leave sobbing. Every so often another man with a cloth over his face will round the room and poke people with a stick. The ones who don't react are taken away in the bamboo stretcher.

Chuang's mother and father are to his left and right. They hold one another's hands in Chuang's lap, and he clutches their tight fingers. His mother might rustle his hair, or tell him a story. His father glances nervously at the curtain.

The front door opens, spilling daylight into the room. It hurts Chuang's eyes. The blue-robed man enters, flanked by two others in similar garb. They don't appear to be concerned with the sick, even as some reach out to touch the hems of their robes. They ignore everyone and pass under the curtain. A discussion begins that escalates into an argument, and after some time the trio reemerges and makes to leave. The man with the apron follows, yelling at their turned backs. After they are gone he palms his face and wipes sweat from his forehead.

Later, when the man with the stick makes his rounds, his assistants take a young woman away on the stretcher.


	6. Chapter 6

Korra's third class begins differently, because she notices the last class only has five people. The brown-haired girl isn't there. But her green-eyed friend frowns at Korra as he leaves.

She decides not to ask about it.

She and Chuang work the punching bags for the first two hours. Her knuckles break open again but she refuses bandages and promises to wipe the leather down when they're done. She knows she doesn't have all the time in the world to gradually toughen her fists – the Equalists are out there.

She thinks about this as she practices the triple strike. They're out there, on the streets. _Jab._ They're making plans right now. _Punch._ Every day means more recruits, more time for Amon to prepare, more people who lose their bending. _Palm._ She's the Avatar, it's her job to end him. _Jab._ She's the Avatar, she has a responsibility to the city. _Punch._ She's the Avatar, and she needs to protect her friends.

At one point she stops and grips the bag's chains, forehead against the leather, breathing hard. It's maddening – knowing her enemies are _out there_ and she's _in here._ But she also knows that the urge to take action is just her gut talking. She's been trying to think with her brain, and she also knows she needs to practice. She'll need every weapon she can get in the fight ahead.

_Aang didn't beat the Fire Lord in a day._

So she swallows those feelings, just like she swallowed her pride when she approached Master Chuang. And she punches.

For the next two hours they practice self-defense. Chuang shows her methods for escaping from locks and armbars and such. Korra already knows some and picks up the rest in little time. But the desire to bend is always there. _Why break his arm when I can breathe fire in his face?_

_Because you may not have that when the time comes._

When they get to the more advanced holds, she gets frustrated. These are situations she's never faced before. At one point she storms out the door and up the stairs, and she stands in the cold street, snow around her boots, arms folded and eyes on the stars. But after a few minutes she cools down and returns, and Master Chuang is still there, drinking from a water skin. She apologizes and bows, and he says nothing except, "Let's continue."

The last hour is spent on blocking drills. But this time Chuang doesn't throw punches. He tries to jab her with knuckles at the neck, armpit, kidney, solar plexus. This is more hand-to-hand training than she's ever had in one session, but she's getting better, though a few strikes still get through and when they do she pays the price. Her arm stings, or she doubles over, or her breath is hard coming.

At one point she breaks to drink, and with her back turned to Chuang she tries to bend fire. She can't.


	7. Chapter 7

She is on the street about to head down the alley stairs for her fourth class when the other group leaves.

They file away, sweat shining on their necks, laughing with one another. Except one kid, the friend of the brown-haired girl. He stops at the top of the steps staring at Korra, bag over one shoulder. He might be a year or two younger than she.

"Hey," he says as Korra approaches.

"Ah. Hi."

She tries to step by him but he blocks her path. "I want to ask you something."

At first Korra gives him a look, but she remembers who she is and what her duties are. "I don't know you, but alright. Shoot."

"You're the Avatar, right?"

That vain thrill passes through her. _You're damn right I'm the Avatar._ But she only says, "Yea, that's me."

He looks up and down the street, and for a moment Korra is afraid he might try to pull something. Not afraid for herself, but afraid for him. She doesn't want to plaster him on the wall for making too fast a move. But he only says, "You chased my friend off, you know."

Korra folds her arms and raises an eyebrow. "Listen kid, I didn't chase anyone off-"

"Yea, you did. Maybe you didn't mean to, but you did. We aren't benders here at Master Chuang's school. That's _why_ we train – because we can't bend, so we have to do whatever we can to protect ourselves. Against muggers, or thugs, or benders. And then _you_ come – the best bender of them all – and you want to train _here?_ Why?"

"Because…" Korra thinks. She needs to think this answer through. She's the Avatar. The kid watches her. He's a scrawny thing, shorter than Korra with a mess of black hair. He's probably never experienced anything like the city's recent troubles. He probably hears about the council's incompetence and the violence Amon has brought to the streets. He probably doesn't know where his loyalties lie.

_Inhale. Exhale._

"Because I'll do anything I need to do, so the city doesn't tear itself apart." She wants to put a hand on the kid's shoulder, but she isn't sure how he'll react. "Anything. I want you to know that I'm fighting for the_ city._ Not for myself, or for benders, or for the council, or any one person." She sighs. "I don't know if that helps. I hope it does." _I do hope. These aren't just words._

The kid looks at the ground. His fists tighten. Then he shakes his head. "That's not good enough for some people." He looks up again, and this time his green eyes are a bit softer. "Watch out. That's all I'm saying."

And he walks away. Korra looks at his back until he turns a corner at the block's end.

_Watch out?_

She doesn't know if it's a warning or a threat.

Downstairs the gym hasn't changed, of course, and Master Chuang is there, bounding left and right around the combat mannequin, throwing punches and palms, striking with his knuckles at the leather body's weak points. For a while Korra studies him without announcing her presence – though he probably knows she's there – and admires how _fast _he is. His speed is immense, his agility impressive. Anyone could tell he's been doing this for a while. He throws a set of four knuckle strikes all down the mannequin's side, then jumps away-

And like that, the realization comes to Korra.

_Idiot._ Not Chuang. Herself.

Her voice is raised when she says, "Why didn't I see it sooner?"

Chuang stops and turns.

Korra steps on the floor and points an accusing finger. "It was so obvious. I'm an idiot for not seeing it before. You know how to fight the Equalists because you fight _like_ an Equalist. It's not exactly the same but it's close enough." She narrows her eyes. "Who are you?"

Chuang's face remains blank. He regards her for a minute or so before walking to his bin and grabbing a rag. He starts wiping down, but he doesn't answer.

"It's pretty clear this isn't an Equalist training camp," Korra says, sweeping the room with a hand. "I've seen them before. But _why_ are training those kids? Are you setting them up? Sending them to Amon?" Korra balls her fists. She summons something from within – ambition and anger – and it leaks into the world as flame around her fingers. She doesn't often use anger for firebending, but it's a handy tool. "I want answers, Chuang."

"So do I, Avatar." He faces her, rag in hand. "We all want answers, but we rarely get them. And when we do, they're not quite the answers we want or expect."

Korra mentally readies to bring the wall down on him, if she needs to. "I don't want bullshit comebacks. _Who are you?_" The flames engulf her fists.

He sighs, wipes his face again and tosses the rag away. Then he takes a few steps onto the hard wood and sits cross-legged, hands on his knees. "You're half-right, and half-wrong. This isn't an Equalist camp. I am not an Equalist. I am not setting up my students to be Equalists, either, but in reality I have no control over their goals and aspirations, so it's entirely possible they could leave me and join Amon's revolution. Maybe some already have." His eyes flicker up to hers. "I really don't know."

"How can you not know? You're their master."

"I'm their master _in here_, but out in the streets they decide who they are, and if they will live by the principles I lay out." He bows his head. "I fear one has already forsaken my lessons."

The brown-haired girl. The argument. _I chased her off._

Korra blows air through her nose. "So it was me. That argument _did _concern me. My being here made her leave."

"No. Her _choices_ made her leave." Chuang tilts his head left, then right, stretching his neck. "What you must understand, Avatar, is that the world is rarely black and white. The Equalists are not wholly evil, and you… not everything you do is wholly good." He raises a hand before Korra can say anything. "This is true for many people, even those with the best intentions. We… we can harm others when we don't mean to."

Korra twists her lips. She doesn't think she's hurt anyone. Or rather, she doesn't _want_ to think she has. She lowers her guard and the flames die. "I don't… I'm just trying to do my best." She takes a few steps and sits as well, a couple yards from Chuang.

Chuang nods. "We all are. And I… I have tried as well. But I've made mistakes." He gestures to the punching bags. "You recognize my fighting style. You say it's similar to the way chi-blockers fight. That's because I trained many of their officers."

The flame in Korra's heart flickers. She is ready to use it at a moment's notice. But not yet. "You're not an Equalist, though."

"I am not. You must understand, this was years ago. Before the Equalist movement was ever public. I don't even know if they called themselves Equalists then." He rubs his forehead. "A few came to me with their concerns. They said they feared oppression by benders, and they wanted a way to defend themselves. For them, the republic had failed." He lets out a breath. "They said my skills could help them and others like them, others like me. What could I do?"

"So you taught them."

"Yes."

Korra watches Chuang. His pitted face is still bowed, and he does not meet her eyes. He stares at the floor, though Korra doesn't think it's out of shame. He is deep in thought. _Here's the guy who gave the Equalists their first tools. And what do I do?_

"Later," Chuang says, "I saw that it was a mistake. And when they asked me to join their movement I realized what they were truly doing, and I disagreed. I told them they were fools. They tried to kill me." Now he matches Korra's gaze. "The council is failing, and the Equalists are far too extreme in their methods. Where does that leave us – those in the middle?"

Korra doesn't have to think on it. For whatever reason, the word comes to her like a bolt from the blue. _Balance._


	8. Chapter 8

The dreams are more frequent than usual.

Chuang is outside with his mother and father, forced out when the room became too full with critical patients. The town streets are no cleaner than the room. Rubbish lines the buildings, and few people walk the cobblestone except the sick. Chuang has started coughing.

A small procession is coming down the road, and it is the man in the blue robes. He is with the two others. As they walk, the sick and ill reach out to him, beg him, but his gaze is locked ahead and he refuses to acknowledge their entreaties. At one point someone throws a ball of mud that splatters across his vibrant clothes. The old man produces a drinking skin and bends water to clean himself off.

Chuang asks his mother why the townspeople are acting this way toward the visitor. Mother tells him the man is from the cold north, and that he can heal the townsfolk, but he won't.

Chuang asks why, and his mother has no answer.

The three northerners pass Chuang. He looks up and asks, "Why?"

In other dreams, the old man's face was muddled and his expression clouded, but now Chuang sees it as clear as his own reflection. His face is full of grief, and there are streaks of wet running down his cheeks. The face says: _I want to help, but I cannot._

_Why?_

Chuang never gets an answer. But this time it hurts a little less.


	9. Chapter 9

Several classes go by in a hurry. Korra is learning fast. She knows this. It's somewhat heartening.

But the Equalists have been more public. Bolder. Korra fears it's not fast enough.

The green-eyed friend of the brown-haired girl never looks at Korra, but that's okay. She's willing to leave him be if it'll avoid picking wounds. So she sits in the corner as the last class packs up, and joins Master Chuang when they are gone.

"What're we working on tonight?"

"The usual," he says.

Which they do. First, two hours of punching. Korra's fists have hardened and they no longer bleed, but it's still soothing to bend water over them when she's finished. One hour of blocking drills. She's much more capable of turning aside Chuang's strikes now. She might miss one every now and then, and that frustrates her, but Chuang reminds her nothing is perfect.

"I make mistakes as well. Some of your blocks are made possible by my mistakes, just as some of my blocks are made possible by yours."

Korra nods. It's a wise lesson, she knows. But for her it's a matter of taking it to heart. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"Yes. I've already told you of mine."

Korra tries to focus on the drills but they are mundane now, and her mind wanders. _Block_. _What mistakes have I made? Slap. Who have I hurt? Turn. How can I fix them? Block._

The answers don't want to come – she has to force them. She's been reckless. _Beifong. Tenzin._ She's hurt her friends. _Bolin._ But she's fixed those mistakes too, at least partially. _I'm sorry. I'll be a better student. I'll be a better friend. I promise._

Doubts linger. _When can I not afford to make mistakes?_

This is the question that bothers her. People make mistakes. But in the stories, heroes don't. In the stories, Aang never did. He always did what was right and he did it well, because the fate of the world was in his hands. And now, Republic City is in Korra's. And she doesn't know if she can afford mistakes.

She and Chuang close the evening with self-defense, and they run through the basic and advanced sets. She can do most of them without a second thought, and Chuang seems satisfied, if his slight nod notes acceptance. He's a hard master to please, and different from Tenzin in many ways.

Before they finish he teaches her something new. "Kick me," he says.

She throws a roundhouse, as quick as she can. Chuang catches her foot and holds her leg against his stomach, but Korra gets a bit of satisfaction out of seeing him shudder from the blow.

"Your kicks are formidable, and they are easily your greatest weapon after your bending. If that is taken from you, though, there is away to turn it to your advantage."

Korra hops to keep her balance. "How?"

"Jump off of your other foot and sweep that leg behind my knees. At the same time, apply pressure with the leg I have, and bring me down."

She tries. It's awkward at first, and she only manages to land hard on her back, Chuang still standing, but she understands the principle. A few more tries and she has Chuang on the ground. They practice it over and over until she can reliably sweep him and take control of the situation. Korra knows she'll need to practice it more, but she recognizes it as a handy tool.

"Good. When you've brought your opponent down with you, you must be ready to finish the fight. Don't give them time to recover."

Korra rolls away and sits up, and Chuang does the same, crossing his legs. Korra adjusts her waist fur. "Finish them, huh?"

"Yes."

She sets her elbows on her knees and rubs her temples. "I don't… I don't want to make any mistakes."

"You will make mistakes. We went over this-"

"Yea, but… listen. Sir. I know I'm going to have to fight Amon at some point. I mean, maybe I won't, but he's made it clear he wants to bring me down. And the feeling is mutual." She sighs and looks away. "He's crazy and dangerous, and he needs to be brought to justice, or he needs…"

There is a pause. Chuang adds, "Or he needs to be removed."

"Yes."

Silence.

Korra sits there, inspecting the mirrors. She looks at her reflection, and she sees one person: Korra of the Southern Water Tribe. But she knows there are two: Korra and the Avatar.

_I have a duty._

She stands and turns to Chuang. "What if I had to remove him? Kill Amon? Do whatever was necessary to make sure the city is safe?"

Chuang stands as well. "I would say that is a wise decision."

"And what if… what if I had to kill those who used to be your friends? The students you trained. Whoever they are. What if they're in the way, and I need to make a decision about them, too?"

This Chuang doesn't answer. Instead he too looks at the mirrors. It's so hard to read him, and Korra doesn't have a gut instinct to play off, like she did with Hiroshi. She steps closer, trying to read his expression. His face is pocked and pitted. It's not a feature she's used to seeing, and she's never really paid attention to it on Chuang, so the extent of his scarring is… awful, to say the least. She wonders how he got it…

That's when he strikes.

He's upon her before she can even _think_, and he slaps her arm away and his knuckles shoot explosions of pain down her side. For once the instinct to bend isn't there and Korra swings, but he ducks and does the same under her other arm.

So her bending is gone. It takes her a moment to realize he deliberately neutralized it. Panic sprouts.

_Shit._

The punches come, one, two, three. She blocks them all and counters with her own. The first misses, but the second palm crunches into Chuang's ribs, and the third connects with his jaw. He grunts and backpedals. Korra keeps the pressure on, hopping forward and pummeling his head with more strikes, even as he guards his face. She uses the opportunity to throw a snapping kick into his gut, but her foot meets hard muscle.

A haymaker rushes for Korra's temple, and she gets inside the swing, knuckling his inner arm and throwing an elbow into his neck, but it only clashes with his collarbone. She feels a punch slam into her ribs. Then another. She spins away into a roundhouse kick that connects with his shoulder, and then _pushes_ off with that foot and throws another into his chest. Chuang grunts again but barrels forward, trying to throw her off with a flurry of strikes to the face.

Korra wants to try her bending but there's no time. Chuang grabs her wrist and she twists her hand and slips out, and at the same time _blasts_ a punch into his solar plexus. Chuang isn't ready for it. He stumbles. Korra follows up with a side kick to the gut.

But he catches her foot scant inches before it connects, and twists. Korra yelps and plummets, slamming into the wood floor. Instinct kicks in and she tries to bend, and-

"Augh!" A small flame spouts from the sole of her boot. Chuang covers his face and staggers, falling on his rear. Korra is on her feet in an instant, ready to bring it to a close. _Finish the fight._

But she stops. She summons flames, but makes no move.

"I don't want to kill you."

Chuang's breath comes in ragged heaves. "I hope not. I don't want to die yet." For the first time in front of Korra he laughs, and then grimaces.

"Why? Don't tell me it was a test."

He laughs again. "But it was! It was a test. And you passed."

A test. Korra doesn't know if she should believe him, but she knows she can't bring herself to kill him. She swallows. Her fire sputters out, and she closes her eyes. "No, I didn't. You would've had me if your chi-blocking hadn't worn off."

Chuang is still clutching his face with one hand. He waves at Korra with the other. "That wasn't the test. I wanted to see-" He coughs. "I wanted to know if you'd fight back. If you'd give it your all."

Korra grits her teeth. "What good is my all, if I couldn't win without bending?"

Chuang drags himself to the wall and takes a drink from a skin. When he turns back his face is no longer covered. It's not bad – rather, it could have been worse – but there's a fat streak of ugly red across his chin and cheek, and his left eyebrow is singed off. "Bending, non-bending, it doesn't matter. What matters is you were able to prove you are willing to do what is necessary to succeed. And in this battle – this _struggle_ for the city – success is everything." He takes another swig of water and gingerly touches his face, scowling in pain.

Korra looks at the ceiling. She knows she should be excited. She knows she should be proud for performing so well and learning what this man has to offer. She shakes her head anyway. "How can… how can you accept this? I came into your school with demands, and you took me in. But you lost a student, and now your face…"

Chuang takes a deep breath. He shuffles to lean against the wall. "I would only feel regret if I'd sent the Avatar to her death. The world is rarely black and white, remember that. I fear some of my students believe it is. I will have failed if you do too." He drinks again.

_Black and white._ Yet another important lesson. Korra's been learning so many lessons lately, but she doesn't want to learn them by hurting others. Especially those close to her.

The room is silent for some time. Eventually, Chuang says, "Thank you for sparing my life."

For some reason this makes Korra laugh. It probably isn't appropriate, but she can't help it. It lets some light back into her soul. "I don't think…" She clears her throat. "I don't think I'm going to kill a master who gave me a fighting chance." She grins. Maybe it's a day of firsts, because Chuang smirks back.

Korra walks over to him and sits, bowing from a kneeling position. Then she bends water from his drinking skin. "The wound's still raw. I might be able to help."

Chuang looks at her, and then the globule of water floating between her palms. He stares at it for a long time, as though it contains life's greatest mysteries. But Korra is patient for once. She waits, water in hand.

After a while, he says, "Yes. Thank you."


End file.
